


Illicit Affairs

by minyardmonster



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Discussion of feelings, M/M, Porn, Secret Relationship, angsty porn, in their own way, no beta we die like men, this was inspired by a taylor swift song that should tell you all you need to know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27023683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardmonster/pseuds/minyardmonster
Summary: Neil’s phone buzzes from where it had fallen out of his pants and onto the floor, screen flashing with Kevin’s name, and whatever that feeling had been promptly dies. Andrew makes sure to catch it in the palm of his hand, planning to dissect the pressure in his chest when he’s alone. He watches Neil pull his jeans back on, watches his arse when he bends to pick up and answer the phone. Watches as Neil let’s himself out Andrew’s apartment, looking back at Andrew with soft, sad eyes before soundlessly closing the door.Andrew stands to make his way to the bathroom and clean up, and spies grey fabric peeking out from underneath his couch. The junkie had left his fucking underwear behind.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 13
Kudos: 250





	Illicit Affairs

Andrew Minyard is not allowed to have Neil Josten, he knows this. They’re on rival teams, they’re supposed to  _ hate _ each other, not to mention their contracts have a very fine  _ no dating _ rule. Though, Andrew wouldn’t really call what they’re doing dating.

_ This is nothing,  _ he reminds himself, answering the knock at his door. It means nothing, even with Neil standing there in his doorway, hood up and head down. 

“I told Kevin I was going out for a run.” And he looks like he has been, too. Face flushed red, and for some reason it makes anger spike inside of Andrew. He wants to see how far down that flush extends when  _ he’s  _ the one responsible for it. Neil doesn’t say anything without having a point behind it, and Andrew interprets it for what it means: they have an hour, two if weather keeps well and Neil can lie about what track he took. 

They waste no time after the accustomary ‘yes or no’ is out of the way, Andrew is kicking the front door shut and dragging Neil down to his height by the nape of his neck, relishing in the clash of their teeth. Neil’s breath his hot in his mouth, his tongue hotter still, but he keeps his hands to himself like  _ always  _ until Andrew is growling and shoving them  _ up, up and under  _ his shirt so Neil can feel the raised skin beneath. Andrew does not remember moving, but his legs hit the back of his couch anyway and he lets himself fall down less than gracefully, Neil scrambling up onto his lap.

_ This is nothing,  _ he tells himself again.  _ We could stop, if we wanted too. _

Neil bites into his mouth, sucking on his lip and and grinding his hips down against Andrew’s own.  _ Not want,  _ he corrects himself, annoyed at the slip up.  _ Need too.  _ He feels Neil thumb over his nipple and groans into the strikers mouth and lets himself hope they never need too.

Idly Andrew thinks of when this had all started, the two of them alone and bored during one the many banquets held throughout the season. Andrew had gone dateless, mostly because it had pissed off his PR team, and Neil had come alone to piss off Kevin. Despite his perfect memory, Andrew had always been a little foggy on how they’d ended up pressed against one another in a secluded corner. He’d never forget they way Neil had thrown his head back, panting  _ yes, yes, yes  _ as Andrew shoved his hand into his slacks and jerked him off fast and rough. That had been several years ago, and the two of them had been acquainted with many different corners since then.

He comes in his jeans there on the couch from nothing but Neil’s rocking hips like he’s a teenager, but he doesn’t waste any time knocking Neil onto his back and pulling his jeans and briefs down together in one swift motion. He presses a gentle kiss to the jut of Neil’s hip, tries not to think about the sharp inhale of breath Neil takes and fails. He mouths a question against the tanned skin, Neil’s answer is hand far to gentle pressed to the back of back of Andrew’s neck pressing him  _ down, down, down  _ until his mouth is around him and his nose is buried in the hair at the base of his cock.

Neil has always been mouthy, but he’s particularly loud when he comes. He moans Andrew’s name over and over, _ oh god’s _ and  _ yes, fuck, don’t stop’s  _ littered between. He’s messy, too, always easily over stimulated, and when Andrew pulls off with a wet  _ pop  _ he sees Neil dragging his free hand across his face to wipe away tears, a fucked out grin wide across his face. Andrew does not think about how long he stays there, working out the kink in his jaw and watching Neil’s chest heave. He does not think about the blooming feeling in his chest when Neil opens his eyes and blue iris’s meet hazel ones. Something is born then, between them, something that had been building longer than either of them could of possibly been prepared for, something that makes Andrew  _ feel  _ and ache deep down to the bone.

Neil’s phone buzzes from where it had fallen out of his pants and onto the floor, screen flashing with Kevin’s name, and whatever that feeling had been promptly dies. Andrew makes sure to catch it in the palm of his hand, planning to dissect the pressure in his chest when he’s alone. He watches Neil pull his jeans back on, watches his arse when he bends to pick up and answer the phone. Watches as Neil let’s himself out Andrew’s apartment, looking back at Andrew with soft,  _ sad  _ eyes before soundlessly closing the door.

Andrew stands to make his way to the bathroom and clean up, and spies grey fabric peeking out from underneath his couch. The junkie had left his fucking underwear behind.

Andrew crushes the feeling in his hand, and lets it die, does not let him feel.  _ This is nothing, I am nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. _

-

Neil Josten answers every question sent his way with full honesty, much to Kevin’s dismay. He’s got a reputation for playing games with reporters, but the truth is none of them are asking the right questions. No one asks questions the  _ right  _ way, either, the way that Andrew asks them. 

If you asked Neil Josten if he was in love with Andrew Minyard, he would answer honestly, and he would say yes. But no one is asking him that, and he suspects no one ever will. Instead, he’s being asked about the leather bracelets he’d been wearing as of late. They’re black and thick and he’s very rarely seen without them, even during games. He knows what they’re getting at when they ask why he never takes them off,  _ even though  _ it is common knowledge most Exy contacts forbid dating. 

Andrew gave them to him the last time they were together, but not the last time they where  _ together. _ There hadn’t been any heavy touches or sweat slick skin, just the two of them sat side by side under the weight of a blanket watching shitty horror movies. Andrew had vanished for fifteen minutes before coming back with a small box, and inside had been the bracelets. He hadn’t said anything, so neither had Neil. He did not think about the A and N that was curved into the inside of either band, and he did not think about how the date was years to the day since their first encounter.

Still, Neil answers honestly, even if they are not asking the right questions. “They’re special to me. Someone very important gave them to me.”

He tries not to flinch away from the mics shoved further in his face, instead focusing on looking directly into the camera, smiling gently. He knows Andrew is watching, is always watching, even if he won’t admit it. Kevin ends up dragging him away before he can say anything else, but it’s fine. Andrew will take the words for what they are  _ (I love you, I love you, I love you)  _ and Neil will either see him tonight like planned, or he won’t.

Andrew does show up, Maserarti parked outside with its windows tinted so dark Neil is sure it’s illegal, and waits for Neil to get in the passenger side. The door is barely shut before Andrew is dragging Neil down and biting into his mouth. His fingers tug painfully at Neil’s hair.

“I hate you. You’re an idiot if you think that meant anything.”

Neil is walking a tightrope, mercilessly high and capable of slipping at any moment. He knows Andrew is up there with him, and he knows Andrew’s biggest fear is heights, is  _ falling  _ so he doesn’t correct the blonde. The fact that he showed up means he feels the exact opposite of what he says, but Andrew has always been a liar, an unreliable narrator. So Neil let’s him kiss into his mouth, let’s him pop the seat back and crawl into his lap. He keeps his hands to himself when Andrew manhandles out both their dicks and jerks them off roughly against each other and he doesn’t even complain when Andrew wipes the mess off his hands and onto Neil’s shirts. 

Andrew is a drug, and it is dwindling, mercurial high. 

He expects to be kicked out of the car, but Andrew climbs back over to his seat and starts the car, speeding off towards his own apartment. Andrew digs out a jumper from his backseat and throws it into Neil’s lap. Neil is fluent in their language, the one only they know how to speak, and doesn’t wait on being told to change. He puts the hood up and exists the maz first, his copy of Andrew’s apartment keys firm in his hands as he walks the four flights of stairs to where he has been spending more and more time lately. 

Andrew follows not long after, his voice gruff when he speaks. “Come shower, you smell like spunk.”

“That’s not exactly my fault.” He’s going for humorous but his voice falls flat and Andrew grunts in response. He lets himself be led to the shower anyway, lets Andrew strip him down and in turn is allowed to strip Andrew. He can’t help but think Andrew is working in stolen glances, his eyes always darting back to Neil, but never lingering. It feels Neil with an unexplainable anger, because Andrew should  _ know _ . ( _ This is yours, always yours, I’ll give you it all and more you just have to ask) _ .

Neil does not mention the way Andrew tugs him roughly against his chest when they’re both under the spray, and he does not mention the arms that shake as they wrap around Neil’s waist, hands curling into the muscle of his back. 

“I hate you.” Andrew’s voice is muffled from where his face is buried in Neil’s shoulder, lips dragging over decade old scar tissue.  _ Liar, liar, liar _ , Neil thinks, but does not say anything. Andrew’s shaking shoulders speak loudly enough for the both of them. Instead, he pushes back wet hair off of Andrew’s forehead and kisses him gently.

This is a truth that is too heavy to say out loud, too powerful to speak into existence. Later, Andrew will offer to let him stay the night, and that is uncharted territory, that is dipping their toes into the truth of what  _ this  _ is. Andrew fits almost perfectly slotted into his side. 

They’ve made a mess of one another. They’re both absolutely ruined.  _ There will never be anyone else, _ Neil thinks.  _ This is it for me, I can’t see this with anyone else _ .

-

Andrew has let Neil Josten make a idiotic fool of himself, has let the striker borrow so deep into his heart he isn’t even sure he has one  _ outside  _ of him. Their contracts have been cut, the two of them the center of Exy’s biggest scandal. Neil had gotten too comfortable, too careless, and Andrew hadn’t cared enough to care, hadn’t had enough time to even  _ think  _ when Neil had found him waiting in the carpark after a hard won game to press a hot opened mouth kiss against his. Andrew would do it again, he’s sure, he’d ruin himself in a million ways worse for Neil Josten, and it’s not like he has ever cared about his career in Exy.

In the end, the contracts being cut isn’t the worst part of it all. The two of them get signed together as a duo to New Jersey's team, who are apparently trying to appear more “LGBT friendly” after one of their players had been filmed going off on drunk homophobic rant. Andrew does not care, and he tells Neil as much. Neil just laughs and kisses him over and over again, right there on the court because he  _ can _ .

Andrew knows eventually this excessive show of PDA will fizzle out, and they will settle back into their usual routine, but he can’t help but look forward to the next time Neil walks into his- _ their _ -apartment, hood down and head up, nothing to hide.

He thinks about that feeling he’d killed in the palm of his hand, takes it back out, dissects it some more, and finds it never did successfully die. 

_ (I love you, I love you, I love you). _


End file.
